


Ineffability in Words

by Alexz_writez



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Depression, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Smut, M/M, Not Beta Read, Self-Harm, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), but not hardcore self-harm, there's a cat involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexz_writez/pseuds/Alexz_writez
Summary: Basically just another South Downs Cottage fic.Aziraphale and Crowley decide to live together. They have to deal with some past traumas and learn more about life and how to pass the time when you don't have to work for Heaven and Hell.Also, a cat annoys the hell out of Crowley, but he still loves the cat, even if he won't admit it.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had begun writing this fic before and had posted it, but then I decided I didn't quite like it, so I re-wrote it. This basically has no plot, so please bear with me as I post Aziraphale and Crowley fluff to cope with life. I may also be slow to update sometimes, sorry...
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy my meaningless rambling!

At the bookshop's backroom, Crowley and Aziraphale sat opposite each other, so drunk they could barely even think. This was probably very much convenient for Crowley, who was about to suggest something he would probably be unable to say if he were at all sober. He had been thinking about it for a long time, and now that Armageddon hadn’t happened, and they were on their side now, he felt it was the best moment to say it.

"Hmm—you know, tiss alwaysss too busy thiss time a year," Crowley managed to say, then he took a long sip of wine, leaving his glass empty yet once again. "I-I's thinking 'bout leav-leaving to shore—moving that iss"

"Oh," Aziraphale said, somewhat confused, the alcohol sure wasn't helping, "permanently so?"

"Not sure, really—I was," he closed his eyes and sank further down into the sofa, "—wass thinkin' you'd come with"

"I'm not sure I quite flollow," he said, tripping over his tongue. "I can't—I'm going to sober up now," he said and proceeded to force the alcohol out of his system. Crowley did the same and immediately regretted it. It had been stupid to ask for such a thing, how had he so foolishly thought Aziraphale would ever agree to said proposal?

"It's stupid, forget about it," Crowley said trying to get past the subject, talking through the taste of alcohol in his mouth, but Aziraphale wasn't letting it go so easily.

"You mean to say you are moving away, then? " Aziraphale asked, seeking clarity. He had always been rather slow at understanding and he felt queasy at the thought of Crowley being further away from him. After all they had been through, he couldn’t bear the thought of ever being too far away from wherever Crowley was at.

"I mean—" Crowley was sure he'd regret saying what he was about to say instead of just trying to get past the conversation once again, but he said it anyways. "It’s just that—I want to be with you. I want you to come live with me. I thought I'd lost you, I—” Aziraphale could’ve sworn Crowley had choked up a bit. “I just—" Crowley was thankful he had his sunglasses on, thinking they might hide the sadness, which was, of course, untrue. "I don't ever want to be apart from you again,” he said looking down, “Pleasecomewithme." 

He'd said it so fast it was barely understandable, but Aziraphale understood. He understood because he felt the same way. Crowley had begged him to run away with him once before, and he had rejected him. Poor Crowley, of course he was afraid of asking such a thing. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt tainting his heart. But now they were finally on the same page, and he wasn't about to make the same mistake.

Aziraphale stood up, after placing his glass of wine carefully on the table, and walked over to where Crowley was sitting, then sat as close to him as he would allow himself to sit. Then moved a little closer. Crowley's hand was resting on the sofa cushion next to him, while his head was turned to face the other side of the room, regretting everything he had said. He couldn’t dare look at the angel. Aziraphale let his own hand rest on top of Crowley's. Crowley startled, but didn’t move his hand; Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand tense as soon as it had come in contact with his own warm skin and then immediately relax into it. Crowley was now watching Aziraphale's every move furtively from behind his dark glasses. 

"My dear,” Aziraphale said, with surprising confidence. “I'd be happy to come along. I'm not letting you out of my sight again, I can assure you that." 

And that was all that was needed; no more words, no other statements. They both knew how they felt, and hoped there would come a time to talk about everything—worries, explanations, emotions and feelings—but now was not that time. There were plenty of things to be worried about, but at that moment—with the comforting heat from Aziraphale’s hand atop Crowley’s own, fingers only slightly intertwined—they were happy, and more importantly, they were together.

It had all been very sudden. After that day, they had begun to make plans and look for a place, and in less than a month they had already found—well Crowley had found, actually—a nice little cottage in the south, about 30 minutes away from the beach. 

They had packed only the essentials, which for Aziraphale were mostly books. He wasn’t selling the bookshop, it had far too many books, and Aziraphale wasn’t about to take them all with him; it would just remain closed most of the time—probably the best decision he had ever taken regarding the bookshop. Crowley was planning on selling his flat, but he still wasn't sure about going through with it. Either way, they still had plenty of time to decide.

At the moment, they were headed to the cottage in the Bentley, with some plants and small boxes filled with books in the backseat. They were driving on the road that ran along the beach. Aziraphale wasn't sure why, since it was far off from where they were headed, but he didn't say anything. There was nothing to complain about; the sun was setting on the horizon and the view was absolutely stunning. Yet, he was surprised when Crowley came to a halt on the side of the road and got out of the car, beckoning at Aziraphale to come with.

Crowley tangled his fingers with the angel’s own as they headed towards the ocean, a cool breeze brushing their faces as they walked. 

They stood right at the very edge, a couple of inches away from where the waves left trails of wet sand after the water receded back into the ocean, and they only watched. Crowley could feel Aziraphale's warmth, not only from where he was holding his hand, but emanating from his whole body. Maybe it wasn't him, maybe the mere fact of standing next to him made him feel warm. Either way, he was thoroughly enjoying it.

After a while, Crowley turned to leave, but Aziraphale held him back. He could tell there was something troubling his mind. Without letting go of his hand, he moved to stand right in front of him. 

“Must you be so ominous, dear?” Aziraphale said, breaking the silence that had remained unbroken since they had gotten inside the Bently and Crowley began to drive. It made Crowley smile, for the first time in the whole day.

“I just thought you would enjoy the view.”

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's other hand with his free hand and brought it up to his lips to place a tender kiss on his knuckles. He placed the hand back at Crowley’s side and then reached up to his face, placing his thumb and index on the rim of his glasses. 

“May I?” he asked. Crowley nodded and Aziraphale removed the sunglasses from his face.

Crowley couldn’t refuse to stare into those big blue eyes, even if he wanted to. He felt unworthy of Aziraphale’s love, he worried about making a wrong move and possibly pushing Aziraphale away forever. Aziraphale could see the worry in his eyes, Crowley knew it and felt even worse for being unable to hide his struggles from the angel.

"My dear boy," Aziraphale said, looking into Crowley's penetrating yellow eyes, "I was wrong to say those words once, and I'm not about to commit the same mistake again. I once said you went too fast for me, but I was wrong. I was just scared, for you, for us. But I’m not afraid anymore, because I’ve got you, and that is all that matters. You needn't worry about me, I'm not leaving your side. Not in a million eons, not ever."

Crowley's lips slightly curled to form a tiny smile, barely visible but it was there. Concern was still visible in his eyes. Aziraphale, who was now holding Crowley's glasses one hand, had brought his free hand up to Crowley's neck. He leaned forward, mere centimeters away from Crowley’s face, and Crowley could feel his warm breath on his lips. 

It was a sweet kiss, full of love and warmth. Neither of them had done this before, but Aziraphale seemed like a natural. He led the way, tilting Crowley's head slightly to get better access. When he parted their lips, he looked back at Crowley to make sure he wasn't crossing a line Crowley would rather be kept uncrossed. He was soon made aware that that wasn’t the case when Crowley leaned back in for another kiss.

After they broke the kiss, Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale and nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck. Aziraphale locked his arms around Crowley’s waist and they held each other tightly in that embrace for what seemed like a long time, basking in it, not daring nor wanting to rush past it.

“I think I love you, angel,” Crowley mumbled into Aziraphale’s neck. He was a demon, he wasn't really sure he was capable of love, but there was no other word for what he was feeling.

"I know you do," Aziraphale said, "and I love you too." Love was oozing out of him—and not the kind of standardized love that he seemed to spread around to everyone and everything he encountered, being an Angel and all, but rather a very specific kind of love he reserved exclusively for Crowley.

They held each other for a long while. When it started growing darker, they headed back to the Bentley and drove away.

The cottage was a sheer beauty. It was two stories high, very spacious and the location provided beautiful scenery from every window. Aziraphale thought the cottage was way too fancy, he would've settled for a smaller cottage, but Crowley wanted only the best for him.

The main entrance led to a big living-room on the left, with an old-fashioned chimney in the corner. They had already filled the room with two sofas opposite each other, a table between them. The living-room was conjoined with the kitchen. There was an island between the two, which matched the L-shaped counter in the kitchen. Above it, the cabinets were painted white, a perfect contrast for the black countertop. There was a door in the kitchen that led to what was soon to be a garden; the vast space was bordered by a white picket fence.

On the other side were a bedroom and a bathroom. The bedroom had a big bed pushed against one of the walls. It was very comfortable, or so Crowley had said, and it was now covered with a white duvet and fluffy white pillows. Shelves lined the walls of the room; soon enough, Aziraphale would be filling them with books. The bathroom was quite big, since it had a shower and a tub. 

These two rooms and the conjoined kitchen and living room were divided by a staircase right in the middle of the cottage. Upstairs there was a big room which Crowley had said had no designated purpose, but it could always be used to store more of Aziraphale’s books if he ever needed more space; this had made the Angel smile with joy.

They arrived at the cottage when the sky had already darkened and the stars shined bright, finally reaching their destination after having sidetracked down to the beach. 

It was their first night there. They had been moving stuff back and forth from their former residences to the cottage, but this time was different. They had finally finished moving, the last of their belongings that they had decided to bring were in the car, and this was their first day—or night, to be precise—living together. Taking all the boxes and plants inside could wait until the next day, so instead they headed into the living room.

Aziraphale thought it would be a good idea to have a glass of wine before going to bed. He usually spent the nights reading, unlike Crowley, who was fond of sleeping even if he didn’t need it. Now that they were going to be living together, they weren’t sure how they would be spending their nights. Maybe Crowley would sleep while Aziraphale stayed in the living room reading, or maybe they would agree upon a different arrangement. To avoid getting into all that fuss, Aziraphale decided to pour each of them a glass of red wine.

Despite having two sofas, they sat on the same one. Aziraphale was sitting on one end and Crowley had decided to sit all the way to the other end of the sofa, with one arm lying carelessly along the back of it.

Aziraphale wasn’t exactly pleased with the distance between them and decided to move closer to Crowley, nestling up comfortably under Crowley’s armpit. The Demon didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he slid his arm down and draped it over the Angel’s shoulder. 

Upon finishing their respective glasses of wine, they set them back on the table. Aziraphale noticed Crowley was tired when he saw him trying to hold back a yawn, failing miserably. It made sense, it had been a busy day, and Crowley had helped the angel carry most of his boxes with books into the Bentley and had driven all the way to the cottage.

Crowley grew worried when Aziraphale moved away from him, thinking maybe he had done something wrong, even though neither of them had uttered a single word, but he suddenly realized it wasn’t like that at all. Aziraphale gestured to his lap, and Crowley understood what he was trying to say without much effort. Hesitantly, he curled up on his side on the couch and placed his head on the Angel’s lap. He was soft and his leg served as a perfect pillow for Crowley’s head. Aziraphale ran his fingers through the Demon’s short red hair and removed his glasses, putting them aside. After a few moments, Crowley’s body relaxed and, drunk with the Angel’s lovely scent and affectionate gestures, he fell asleep with minor struggle.

With a snap of his fingers, Aziraphale miracled the book he had been reading recently into his hand and a warm blanket over Crowley’s body. He proceeded to read all night, carding his fingers through auburn hair as Crowley slept.

When morning came and sunlight shone through the windows, Crowley woke up completely disoriented. He shifted and, when he realized he had been resting his head on the Angel’s lap, tried to get up hurriedly while apologizing. Aziraphale caught a hold of him before he could move away from his lap. He hushed him and assured him he’d done nothing wrong. He calmed him down, placing a soft hand on his neck, with his head still resting on his thigh. He leaned forward, and managed to place a sweet kiss on Crowley’s cheek. 

Crowley smiled.

“Maybe next time we could actually make it into the bedroom,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. Crowley smiled at him. “Unless you’d rather sleep alone,” Aziraphale said, it was more a serious question than anything.

“Of course not, angel. Of course not.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Aziraphale trying to tempt Crowley into doing something sinful or is Crowley just imagining it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the cat, as promised.
> 
> /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\
> 
> Sorry, couldn't help it.

The morning sunlight poured into the bedroom, slowly illuminating every inch of it and bringing it back to life. Aziraphale had stopped his nighttime reading little less than an hour before just to gaze at the demon that slept a few inches away from him, laying on his side with his knees slightly brought up to his chest. 

Aziraphale had been studying every single aspect of him—the sharp face that highlighted all of his delicate features; the thin red lips that so gorgeously embellished his mouth, which were now slightly parted as he took in short steady breaths; the bright red hair, curled into perfect locks; thin arms carelessly spread along the side of the bed, and those long delicate fingers… He found that nothing could compare to such elegant beauty.

Aziraphale decided to move closer to him. He lied down sideways and used his arms to bring Crowley's sleeping body against his chest. He buried his nose in Crowley’s hair, getting lost in his scent, and peppered small kisses along the nape of his neck. Not long after, Crowley woke up.

“Mmm. Hello there, angel,” he said groggily, turning around to face him.

“You look so beautiful today,” Aziraphale said, peppering small kisses on his lips between words. Crowley only smiled and allowed himself to be kissed.

“Let me take you to dinner tonight,” Crowley said, hugging the Angel, who was now laying on his back, and resting his head against his chest.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Aziraphale said playfully.

“I might be.”

“Well then, that sounds lovely,” Aziraphale smiled.

Only a couple of weeks had passed since they had moved to the cottage and started this new kind of relationship. They were closer now, somehow, apart from the fact that they now lived together. They could express their love freely and were happy to do so, even though they were just beginning to learn how to do it without feeling weird or afraid about it. After so many millennia of hiding their love, it was proving to be a bit hard to show it so openly now. Aziraphale’s heart still fluttered every time Crowley kissed him, and Crowley still blushed every time as well; and they hoped those feelings would never pass.

Crowley stood up after a while and wrapped a black robe around himself.

“I’ll go make some breakfast, and maybe you can finally finish unpacking the last few boxes with books.” He grinned.

Aziraphale smiled. “Okay, dear.”

He headed down into the kitchen and stopped short a few feet away from the counter. A bulky figure lured on the counter. Crowley’s eyes took a couple of moments to adjust to the light flooding in from the window, making it harder to see the dark thing that sat right in front of it. Finally, he saw it. A cat.

“Oi, you!” He pointed at the cat and made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Get out.”

The cat didn’t move from his sitting position and continued licking its paw. He glared at it and realized, seconds later, it was useless.

He walked slower than usual over to the fridge, never taking his eyes off the cat. Inside, he saw some leftover turkey breast and decided it was probably the best idea. He chopped it all up into little pieces and placed them on a plate. Carefully he slid the plate towards the cat.

Now he seemed interested. The cat leaned in and sniffed the meat. He took a bite and chewed. 

Crowley grinned for a second at seeing the cat eating the turkey he had provided. Then he frowned at himself. Aziraphale’s goodness was starting to rub off on him.

“Everything alright, dear?” Aziraphale said walking into the kitchen. “I heard you say something.”

“That was minutes ago, angel. If someone was in here, I’d probably be dead by now,” he reproached.

“Nonsense. If someone had been here, I’d have noticed right away.” Aziraphale smiled. He had his ways of protecting Crowley, he couldn’t risk him getting in danger after all they’d been through. “I see you're already making friends.” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards the cat.

"Not a friend. Just a parasite, apparently.”

“Well, you were the one to provide it with food, dear,” he said. Walking to the other side of the counter to make some coffee. 

Crowley looked at him, indignant. “Cats are the spawn of the devil, angel. Evil incarnate. I don’t see why I wouldn’t help out a fellow,” he said defensively.

“Right,” Aziraphale said. He couldn’t help but smile. He poured coffee in two mugs and handed one to Crowley. “Well, while you and your  _ vile  _ associate get acquainted, I’ll go unpack.” He placed a sweet kiss on Crowley’s cheek and disappeared into the bedroom to finish unpacking. 

Crowley kept a close watch on the cat as it ate. Meanwhile he started frying some eggs and toasting bread. As the eggs sizzled on the pan, he walked over to the cat who had finished the turkey and was cleaning its whiskers with its paw. He ran a tentative hand over the animal’s head and down its back, and the cat leaned into it. He smiled in spite of himself. He was definitely going soft.

After a while the cat went out the open window from which he had managed to get in through in the first place. Crowley finished plating breakfast and then left to go find his angel. Aziraphale had finished placing all his books on the shelves in the bedroom 

“What do you think, Crowley?” he asked, walking over to where Crowley stood leaning on the doorframe.

“Looks great, angel.” He wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and placed a kiss on top of the angel’s head, deliberately lingering in his curls. “Breakfast’s ready.”

The angel wiggled happily at the thought of food and Crowley smiled. They headed to the kitchen and sat at the bar, where Crowley had set two plates with eggs, bacon and toast; Aziraphale sure was one to love a good traditional breakfast. Crowley watched him eat with delight, taking a bite of his own food every once in a while. Once Aziraphale had finished his breakfast, Crowley slid him his plate, which was still mostly full, and Aziraphale was happy to accept it. 

“Thank you for breakfast, my dear,” he said when he had finished both plates. 

“Anything for you, angel,” he replied, making the blond smile and blush slightly. “I was thinking we could go down to the beach, if you’d like. Just walk around for a bit before we go to dinner.”

“Sounds lovely.”

After a few hours, which Aziraphale spent finishing the book he had been reading and Crowley spent on his phone—and maybe sometimes just watching his angel read—they headed out. 

There weren’t many people on the beach. It was late afternoon and, even though the sun was out, it was a bit chilly. Crowley had made sure to bring extra blankets for them, even after Aziraphale insisted they’d get full of sand. He placed a blanket on the ground and placed the basket with food on top of it. When Aziraphale sat down, Crowley wrapped a blanket around him and sat next to him. The angel looked at him smiling and placed a sweet kiss on his cheek. Aziraphale rearranged the blanket so that it was draped over both their backs and used that as an excuse to get closer.

Where they sat it was quiet and peaceful, it was mostly empty except for a person or two who walked by every once in a while.

Crowley opened the basket and took out a slice of chocolate cake on a plate. Aziraphale looked over at him with narrow eyes, knowing well that they didn’t have cake back at the cottage. It was also pretty much impossible for the slice of cake to remain intact in the basket, when all the shaking and moving would’ve smushed it inside.

“Might’ve made a small miracle. Is it so bad that I wish to spoil my angel?” he said with mock exasperation.

The angel smiled. “Thank you, dear.”

Crowley broke the tip of the slice with a fork and brought it to the Angel’s lips. “You can thank me later, now open up,” he said with a grin. Aziraphale complied and engulfed the piece with his mouth, leaving the fork clean when Crowley pulled it away from his lips. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cake, making delighted noises as Crowley watched, entranced. He had never been able to watch the Angel so leisurely. He only ever had quick glances behind the safety of his sunglasses; but now he could watch him openly, even if he still had the sunglasses on, he didn’t have to worry about looking like he wasn’t drawn to Aziraphale’s lips.

Crowley broke another piece with the fork and fed it to Aziraphale, revelling at the sight once again and enjoying the sounds that made their way out from the back of his throat. 

Crowley remembered then about "eating cake by the ocean" being a euphemism for having sex on the beach, and laughed inwardly at that. He wondered how humans came up with such weird phrases that made no sense. Anyways, it was funny seeing as that was the closest they'd ever get to some kind of sexual intimacy. And he was perfectly fine with that. Not that he didn't want to engage in such activities with the angel who was currently eating cake in an almost lewd manner, but if that wasn't what aziraphale wanted then he didn't want it either, and he had no problem with that.

They kept at it, Crowley feeding his angel cake—which remained sandless despite wind, due to a small demonic miracle—and Aziraphale relishing the food as much as Crowley relished him, until there was no more cake left.

Crowley brought his thumb up to clean the chocolate smudges on the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth and was taken by surprise when Aziraphale leaned forward and took the thumb in his mouth, sucking slightly to clean it up. He looked at Crowley as he did so, and the demon was glad he had his dark glasses on, because he wasn’t sure he could control his reaction right just then. Aziraphale pulled back and licked his lips. Did he even know what he was doing to him? Aziraphale smiled and Crowley’s heart went crazy. He did his best to remain calm.

“So, now wh—” Aziraphale was interrupted by Crowley’s lips crashing onto his.

The demon pulled away far quicker than Aziraphale would’ve liked him to.

“Now we walk," Crowley said. He got up and pulled the angel up with him.

They walked along the beach for what must've been about two hours. Crowley insisted that the angel stayed wrapped in the blanket, as it was getting colder. They walked hand in hand, like a couple of teenagers that had just started to date, but it was even better than that. They had known each other for so many years, and through all those years their love for each other had always persisted, and now they could walk freely, holding hands and every once in a while stealing a small kiss from each other. They both knew they could never get tired of that feeling, because their love had always been there, and after all this time, it hadn't faltered, and it never would. It was a simple fact, really.

After they had walked along the shore for miles, talking and laughing, and walked back in the same fashion, they decided it was probably time to be leaving.

They grabbed all their things and got to the Bentley. Crowley smiled when they were finally inside the car and he saw Aziraphale's curls all messy because of all the wind and his nose tinged with red by the cold. He leaned towards him and planted a kiss on his nose, making Aziraphale smile. He could never get tired of kissing the angel now that he could, and Aziraphale could never get tired of Crowley kissing him. 

They drove to a restaurant Crowley had spotted some days back and got there in the early evening.

At the restaurant, Crowley watched Aziraphale eat. He watched closely, attentively. He could now, and he took full advantage of it. Aziraphale made such sinful sounds as he ate, it was making Crowley react in a way he never had before. He felt a weird urge, something drawing him forward, closer to the Angel. But aziraphale couldn’t possibly want that. He refused to think the thoughts he was thinking, but he also refused to stop looking at the angel as he parted his lips to bring the food to his mouth. Crowley could swear the angel's back arched back in the slightest with every taste. He wondered what else would make his back arch with pleasure… NO. No, he had to think of something else.

He drank his wine, going back, once again, to stealing only quick glances for his own good. He had never felt this way, and he most definitely shouldn’t be feeling this way. Aziraphale wouldn’t want that.

A particularly loud whine made Crowley tense everywhere. This was definitely bad.

He made it through dinner and somehow even managed to get through watching Aziraphale devour his dessert without spontaneously combusting.

“Are you okay, my dear?” Aziraphale asked on the ride back home. “You seem a bit tense.”

“‘M fine,” he said.

Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s thigh, higher than would be considered proper. “Are you sure?”

Crowley swallowed. “Yep.”

Did the bastard know what he was doing to him? He was probably too innocent to know the lascivious thoughts he was provoking, all the lewd images crossing Crowley’s mind.

They got to the cottage and the angel sat on one of the sofas. 

“How ‘bout a nightcap, ey?” Crowley said, heading towards the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine.

“Wait, Crowley...”

Crowley turned around. The angel patted the space next to him on the couch, and Crowley walked over and sat there. 

“When I said that about catching up, I meant it. You don’t have to worry about going too fast, you know?”

“Yep,” said Crowley. He wondered if there was an underlying motive to the reassertion of that which he had previously stated, maybe something to do with the way he'd been feeling today. Was the angel trying to get more intimate with him? No, that was stupid. Of course he wasn't. Crowley was just too tense and it was starting to show, it was starting to bother the angel. Yes, that was it. Aziraphale was just trying to reassure him.

Aziraphale sighed. “Would you take off your glasses, dear? I’d like to see you.”

Crowley couldn’t possibly refuse, so he did as he was asked. Aziraphale searched his eyes. He placed a hand on Crowley’s thigh and leaned in for a kiss. Crowley met him halfway, giving him a chaste kiss. Aziraphale though, began kissing him more intently. He licked Crowley’s bottom lip and Crowley granted him access to his mouth. He explored and Crowley let him. 

They hadn’t kissed like this before.

Aziraphale squeezed his thigh and Crowley couldn’t stop the moan that left his throat. The angel pulled back then and Crowley worried. But Aziraphale was smiling.

“Enjoying yourself, dear?” he asked with a smug smile on his face.

Crowley understood then. Of course the bastard knew what he was doing, he knew all along. But Crowley was too overwhelmed to protest. All he could do was nod.

“Come here,” he said. 

Crowley complied and climbed onto his lap. Aziraphale kissed him again, with even more fervent passion than before. His hands wandered down Crowley's back and rested on his ass.

“Is this okay?”

Crowley nodded and lurched forward again to kiss those pink lips. He couldn’t get enough of Aziraphale’s mouth, he wanted to know what else it could do. He wondered if the sounds he would make when Crowley sucked him off would be anything like those he made when he ate, or maybe they'd be even better.

Crowley's mind stopped wandering then, when another sound caught his ear. He turned around to find the same cat he had seen that morning sitting on the coffee table. It looked smug, as if it knew it was interrupting something Crowley had been yearning to have for thousands of years now.

“Well, look who’s back.” Aziraphale chuckled.

“Way to kill the mood,” Crowley groused and scowled at the cat. “Definitely the spawn of Satan,” he mumbled.

“Oh, come on, now. It probably doesn’t have a place to sleep. We should make him a temporary bed,” Aziraphale said, moving to place Crowley back on the couch and leaning forward to pet the cat. The cat leaned into Aziraphale's touch. “I’ll be back with a blanket.”

“Angeeel,” Crowley whined as Aziraphale disappeared into the bedroom. “Thanks for that, little devil,” he hissed at the cat. It didn’t seem to mind at all, after a few seconds it left towards where Aziraphale had disappeared into the bedroom.

“Sure, he takes the cat to bed but refuses to bed me,” he mumbled to himself, still scowling.

Aziraphale came back after a while, with a spare pillow and a blanket, the cat trailing behind him.

“Oh don’t look so upset Crowley. You can be certain I’m not done with you yet.”

This made Crowley feel a tiny bit better, his arousal began to grow again.

Aziraphale finally finished preparing the cats makeshift bed on the other couch and the cat approached it with interest.

“I’m sure he can take care of himself tonight. Now, how about we get you to bed?”

Crowley felt his face flush and swallowed hard. He nodded and followed Aziraphale to the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley woke up the next morning to find himself lying naked on the bed. He turned around to find that Aziraphale wasn't there. He smiled at the memory of what had gone down the night before and made a mental note to ask Aziraphale where he had learned those moves. He stretched out on the bed, before getting up, wrapping a robe around himself, and walking out of the room.

He could hear the angel working on something in the kitchen and made his way there. Crowley was happy, happier than he'd ever been, in fact. He knew he must've been smiling like the cat that got the cream, and speaking of cats… The blasted cat was sitting on the kitchen island like a pampered little beast, licking itself all over while basking in the warmth of the sunlight that flooded in through the open window.

"I really hoped to be rid of you," Crowley muttered in discontent, though he was now beginning to feel some sort of attachment to the cat.

"I certainly hope you are talking to the cat, dear," Aziraphale said as he stepped away from the counter to hand Crowley a cup of coffee and place a tender kiss on his cheek.

"Of course I mean the cat! He's nothing but a parasite. If we do nothing he'll never leave us alone." He sipped the sweet black coffee, which was the perfect temperature, just exactly warm enough to feel delicious as it slid down his throat. That may have been just enough to make him less annoyed about the cat.

Aziraphale continued to make breakfast—or a failed attempt at it, though Crowley would never complain about the taste, even if it did taste a bit odd—and meanwhile Crowley sat down at the bar, eyeing the cat carefully.

The cat, now that Crowley took the time to actually inspect him, was quite the elegant looking thing. It was mostly white; more like a greyish white, darker in some parts, creating indiscernible lines along its back. The stripes became more defined and darker as they approached its head and tail—the tail ending in a completely black tip, black as if it had been dipped in a can of paint. He reached a tentative hand to stroke it, hoping Aziraphale wouldn't notice his newfound interest in the feline, and the cat didn't seem to mind. The cat, in fact, seemed to like it. It pushed its head against Crowley's hand, and then began to lick him. It's tongue was rough, but not enough to hurt the skin on his hand. He smiled in spite of himself.

Aziraphale turned then with plates in both hands. He didn't mention anything about Crowley's sudden fondness for the cat, and Crowley was grateful for it. Instead he said, "One of his eyes is astray. I noticed it earlier this morning. I think it's normal for this type of cat."

_ Astray? _ Crowley then leaned to catch a glimpse of the cat's eyes. One of the eyes was, in fact, askew; though he found the eyes to be extremely glamours, the mixture of green and blue was extremely captivating. And anyways, weird eyes… he was all for it. But Crowley’s eyes, to his mind, weren't pretty; the cat's though, were marvellous. Yep, maybe they could spare some space for a new  _ roommate _ . 

“Do you think it belongs to someone?” Crowley asked, though he doubted it. He didn’t look like the kind of cat who would settle if he didn’t feel like it. No, he was a free cat, who belonged to no one. Or was it a she?

“Well, I haven’t spotted any posters. And she wasn’t wearing a collar.”

_ Oh, so it was a she. _ Aziraphale was always better at this type of stuff,  _ living beings,  _ like animals and such. Crowley was better at plants, they were less stubborn.

Crowley thought about it as they ate. It was probably a good idea to start buying cat food at the market. If she was going to keep visiting their house, she might as well have something to eat. If she was someone’s pet then they surely would be fine with the idea of their cat coming and going as it pleased.

As he thought about all the implications of having a cat, Crowley didn’t notice Aziraphale smiling sweetly at him as he watched the cat. The cat revelled in Crowley’s attention, rolling on the countertop as Crowley brushed a hand along her side. Aziraphale was sure the cat wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed to have grown fond of Crowley, and Crowley of it.

"What shall we do today, dear?" Aziraphale said, once they finished breakfast.

"Well, we do need to get some stuff from the market. I think I'll go into town to buy what we need. If you want I can go by myself and you can use the time to catch up on you reading, I know you must be dying to finish that book," he said, referencing the book Aziraphale had begun to read only about a week before and was a few pages away from finishing. He usually would've finished the book I'm only a few days, but with all the time he spent with Crowley now, he barely had time to read—not that he minded spending time with the demon.

"Well I was thinking maybe we could use a tiny miracle to get the groceries we need, and instead we could use that time to…" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Stay in bed, perhaps all day."

Crowley flushed, but shook his head no with a smile. "As much as I'd like that, angel—" He stood and placed a kiss on the angel's lips. "I told you I've been meaning to stop using so many miracles, maybe try to be more human- _ ish _ , blend in, you know?"

Crowley grabbed the dishes and placed them in the sink.

"I know, darling. Very well, then I shall await your return."

"Thanks, angel,” he said, then went back to the bedroom to get dressed and ready to go out.

After placing one last kiss on the angel's forehead, he grabbed his car keys from where he'd carelessly thrown them on the coffee table the day before—Aziraphale had been insisting they should get a key hanger, and he was probably right since Crowley often found himself losing track of his keys.

"Drive safely, my dear," Aziraphale said.

"Always do, angel." He clicked his tongue and winked, then closed the door behind himself.

As Crowley drove he couldn’t stop thinking about the cat. That animal had already managed to infest every single thought in his mind, even the thoughts he would have rathered remain buried in his subconscious. He wondered if the cat had been kicked out, if she had previously had a home and people to live with. Little rascal like her was sure the type of cat who’d be thrown out, she looked too clean and fluffy to have been a street cat for longer than a couple of days. She was bound to make a mess of their home sooner or later, but she seemed to be smart enough to know she probably shouldn’t wreck the home of the people who had fed her two days in a row and had provided her with a place to sleep.

His mind began to drift toward those awful thoughts, memories, of his own rejection. Had she been cast out just like he had? He couldn’t bear to think about it, she deserved a decent home and love, why would someone be so horrible as to leave her out alone on the streets to fend for herself. He wouldn’t allow it. The cat had to stay with them, Crowley decided. And just to be clear, he wasn’t being nice, it was just… maybe it could be considered a deal. He could provide her a home in exchange for… for… well, they could figure out the details later on.

He got to the store and browsed around the aisles, looking to see if something caught his eye or lit up a sign in his brain reminding him he needed more of this or more of that. His thoughts wandered back to memories of other times he’d gone shopping with his angel. Their shopping methods were very different. Aziraphale carried a handwritten list of things they needed to avoid forgetting to acquire a certain product that could easily slip his mind. Crowley, on the other hand, entered the store blindly and perused the shelves with nothing but a mediocre mental list he had pieced together on his ride to there, which he usually failed to remember once he stepped foot in the store. Aziraphale’s system was undoubtedly better; he never arrived home only to find he had forgotten to buy something, nor did he take as much time shopping as Crowley did, but Crowley refused to change his technique. He enjoyed shopping with the angel, the mere memories of past visits to the store made Crowley smile, but right now he needed some time alone.

Thoughts raced by, and Crowley was getting anxious. He gripped the shopping basket tighter as he willed the awful thoughts away, but they refused to leave him alone. He remembered the day of the fall, the fear and the insufferable pain, but most importantly, the neglect. He wasn’t good enough, he was a failure, meant to be disposed of, unworthy of love. He had never done anything wrong, had he? Was he that disgraceful? To be unworthy of Her love, that hurt. It hurt even more than the actual excruciating pain of falling. 

He squeezed his hands tighter around the plastic basket’s handles. He took a deep breath, did his best to regain his composure, and continued looking for what they needed back at the cottage.

By the time he had paid and left the store, he had begun to regret not adopting Aziraphale’s list system, because all those horrid thoughts had made him wish he could’ve left the establishment twenty minutes sooner.

He had bought cat food, which was probably the only highlight to that whole experience. Oh, and he had also bought some of those biscuits Aziraphale seemed to love so much; that was a good outcome as well, he liked making his angel happy. 

He wished Aziraphale was there to comfort him and immediately felt like he was such a burden. Aziraphale shouldn’t have to bear with him and help him get out of the mess that was his own head. He should deal with this on his own and not bring the angel into his problems.

After some debate, he decided to go down to the beach. If not to walk on the sand, maybe just to stare at the sea. He could use the view, and Aziraphale could, most likely, use the extra time to keep on reading.

Once at the beach, he got out of the Bentley and leaned back against the hood. The sound of the rushing waves was comforting, for at least a few minutes, until the thoughts began to flood in, just like the waves that flooded the sand on the beach. His hands clenched, almost like a reflex. It had been a while since he had gotten so stressed and anxious that it triggered those odd muscle spasms. An urge to scream or punch something overtook him and passed shortly after. He opened his hands again and took a deep breath, which took him more effort than it normally should have, and then got in the car and drove away.

“I’m back!” Crowley announced as he entered the cottage with shopping bags in his hands.

“Oh Crowley, I was wondering where you were,” Aziraphale said with worry clear in his voice, “You took so long, I began to worry.”

“I’m perfectly fine, angel. There were just many people at the store.” That was a lie. He had wasted probably an hour or two more by going down to the beach and then driving around with no clear destination. 

“Well, it’s good you are back. I prepared a lovely dinner for us, though I think I’ll have to warm it up a bit, it might be cold now.”

There was food on the table, a lot of it, and everything was set for a lovely dinner. If only Crowley had arrived earlier.

“Angel, you were supposed to read, not prepare a meal for me, I could’ve taken care of that.” He couldn’t help but feel bad about Aziraphale giving up his reading, once again, because of him.

“Nonsense, it was my pleasure. Now, let me help you with those bags, and then we can sit down to eat.”

Crowley helped Aziraphale reheat the food, after they had stored away the groceries. He couldn’t stop the feeling of self-hatred for being late as they ate dinner. The food was considerably better in taste than it had been the last time, the angel was getting better at his cooking. But despite the food being good, Crowley felt anything but well. He had once again failed Aziraphale, he couldn’t even do the shopping right, apparently. And also… where was the cat? She was probably asleep somewhere in the house, but it would still calm his nerves to know she was still there and not out on the streets again.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale asked him, interrupting his loud thinking. He looked up from his plate to meet a concerned gaze.

His hands spasmed once again and clenched into fists; he had to admit that was beginning to worry him a bit. He didn’t want the angel to worry, though, so he forced on a smile.

“I’m always alright.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this turned out to be a Crowley-has-depression kind of fic, oops...
> 
> CW: Self-harm. Crowley slaps himself. I think it counts as self-harm.

“Mona.”

“No.”

“Lisa.”

“No,” Crowley rejected yet again.

“Patty?”

They had been at it for hours.

“No.”

Crowley was sprawled on the couch. A week had gone by and the cat was still with them, they had decided it was prime time to give it a name. Aziraphale had been pitching ideas all morning.

“How about Emily?” Aziraphale suggested.

“I swear there must be more interesting names out there. We’ve been through six thousand years of history, how difficult could this be?” he said with an exasperated huff.

“It’s really not that complicated, you’re just difficult to please,” Aziraphale complained.

“Says the angel who went to France in the middle of a revolution to get  _ decent crepes, _ ” Crowley countered.

Aziraphale shot him a look and Crowley smiled a big toothy grin. 

“Well, I give up. Can you pass me the thing?” he said, pointing idly.

“What thing?” Aziraphale said, clearly confused.

“The phone, imma look for a list of names.” 

His phone was only a couple of inches away from his reach, on the coffee table, but he couldn’t be bothered to stretch. Aziraphale sighed and handed him the phone.

A few seconds passed before Crowley began reciting a list of names in a low mumble.

“Olivia, Emma, Ava, Sophia, Isabella, Charlotte, Amelia, Mia…”

None of them were good enough.

“Ella, No, Elizabeth, No, Camila, Nah, Avery, Nope, Mila—There’s a perfect name, I just can’t grasp it!”

“Well, I'm sure it’ll come to you, dear,” said Aziraphale. He stood up to make hot cocoa for both of them, but before he did, he stroked the cat as it slept next to him on the couch. She was just like his sleepy demon. The thought made him smile.

There was a knock on the door. Aziraphale called out from the kitchen, “Can you get that, dearest?”

Crowley groaned and finally slipped off the couch grumpily. “Fiiine.”

He opened the door and was greeted by the smiling face of an elderly lady. Alma, he recalled. No, that wasn’t the perfect name for a cat either.

Alma had stopped by the house on their second day there, to welcome them into the small neighborhood. She was a nice lady, and Aziraphale had loved her strawberry cheesecake.

“Hey,” Crowley said.

“Hello, honey,” Alma said sweetly. “I thought I’d pop by and check in on you, I made some truffle cake and had some to spare, I thought I’d bring some by.” She lifted her hands to emphasize the cake, which lay scrumptious on a fancy cake stand with a glass dome that she was carrying.

Crowley thought it was kind of nice how she was “checking in on them” as if they were her children or something similar. He wasn’t normally very nice with people in general, but Alma was a lovely lady and her food made Aziraphale light up in bliss, so he figured he might as well make the effort.

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Erm, do come in, please,” he said, stepping away to allow her inside. “Zira,” he called out—that was the name Aziraphale used when mingling with humans—“look who’s here.”

Aziraphale walked out of the kitchen and smiled upon seeing Alma. 

“Oh, hello dear,” he said.

“I brought cake,” she said with a smile.

“That’s so nice of you, allow me to help.” he took the cake off her hands and placed it on the kitchen island counter. “This is perfect timing, I was just making cocoa.”

“So how have you boys been?” Alma asked as she sat down at the bar.

“We’ve been very well, thank you. How have you been?” Aziraphale asked.

“Very good. Oh, who have we got here?” she said as the cat approached.  _ Charlie? _ Crowley considered. No, that wasn’t right either.

“Ah right,” Aziraphale began. The cat jumped up on the counter and Crowley ran his hand on her back. “A stray cat that appears to have grown fond of us.”

“How nice,” Alma said, with a genuine smile on her face. “What’s his name?”

“It’s a she, actually,” Crowley said. “We haven’t found a name yet.”

“Mm,” she said and thought for a second, “how about Kathy?”

Nah, wasn’t it either.

“Maybe,” Crowley responded politely, and they changed the subject.

Aziraphale poured three cups of cocoa and Crowley helped slice and serve the cake. They ate and chatted, Aziraphale and Alma carried out most of the conversation, Crowley wasn’t much of a small talk kind of demon. 

Afterwards, Aziraphale thanked her for the cheesecake she had brought before and told her to stop by more often. They thanked her again for the cake and she left.

“What a sweet lady,” Aziraphale said as he stored the rest of the cake in the fridge.

“Yep,” he said. A moment passed. “Janine?” He thought for a second. “Nah, doesn’t fit.”

It was important, the name-finding thing, but the truth was it wasn’t solely the need of a name that had him so wrapped up in the subject. He was using it as a distraction. His mind was a wreck, so he had been trying to focus on other matters to stop his thoughts from rambling. This had been his best distraction yet. He had tried to start growing a garden in the backyard but had quickly found that it provided a blankness of the mind that was very easily tainted by dark thoughts, and he wasn't too fond of that, so the garden had been put on pause.

It was beginning to get harder and harder to discern the reasons why he found himself in such a low state. He lacked energy, slept longer than he used to on any normal day, which was usually a lot, and occasionally suffered from muscle spasms due to stress or anxiety.

Right now, the best thing he could do was think of names. He had gotten through tough times similar to this one, years back, by doing the same, avoiding the problem. Therapy, schmerapy. He didn’t need that crap, he was okay. And either way, a demon, in therapy? Yeah right, like that’d work. No, he just needed to keep ignoring the problems and they’d eventually be so buried away in his brain he wouldn’t even remember them. He just needed to think…

Jennifer? Mm, nope.

Crowley looked at the cat as it ate from a small bowl they had placed for her next to the fridge. She looked like she needed a bath, but she also looked like she’d kill everyone on Earth with those sharp claws before her paws even touched the water. Maybe it was best to just leave her be. Or maybe there was another way to get her clean; humans were quite inventive, surely they had come up with a solution. She looked like she could use some help getting rid of the fleas; though, in the worst case scenario, a quick miracle could easily get rid of them.

“What shall we do today then, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley only shrugged and downed the remainder of his cocoa.

“What about that garden you were working on? We could go outside and you could work on that while I read, how about that?”

It was a terrible idea, but he couldn’t exactly tell the angel why. Crowley didn’t want him to worry over nothing. The wave of negativity would surely pass in a few days and everything would be well again. Right now, he couldn’t deal with a quiet early afternoon riddled with screaming thoughts he couldn’t run away from.

“I’m too tired for that,” Crowley said. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to you reading in bed while I nap.” Then he thought it through; he didn’t want to be an inconvenience. “Unless of course, you don’t like the idea of reading in bed, in which case it’d be fine, I can nap alone, it’s—“

Aziraphale shut him up with a tender kiss on the lips. “I’d be delighted.”

And yes it was early, but they could do whatever they wanted now; and so they found themselves in bed. Aziraphale read, and Crowley tried his best to mute his brain long enough to fall asleep. He curled up against Aziraphale, and his scent calmed him enough to find himself drifting off into a light daze. They were moments like this that made everything significantly better. Temporarily.

“Crowley…” came a distant call. “Crowley!”

Crowley felt a hand shaking him slightly.

“What’s wrong?” He said groggily, looking up to meet Aziraphale’s concerned eyes. 

“You looked like you were having a bad dream,” the angel said.

Oh right, he was. It had completely slipped his mind once Aziraphale had awoken him, but now it was coming back to him. Shit, this wasn’t good.

“What—what was I doing?” he tried.

“You were mumbling something incoherent, and then you began to squirm and shiver.”

Right. Yeah, that seemed about right.

“Mm, I’m sure it was nothing. I don’t even remember it now,” he said and quickly changed the subject, “what time is it?”

Aziraphale seemed hesitant to ignore the problem but eventually gave in and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table.

“It’s almost six thirty,” he announced.

Crowley nodded and then lowered his head back down to rest it against Aziraphale’s chest. The angel began to run his fingers through Crowley auburn hair, occasionally massaging his scalp.

The dream had been quite terrible. The first part hadn’t been as horrible though, which really said something, since he had dreamt of the fall. The pleading, the begging for forgiveness, proceeded by the seemingly infinite fall engulfed by scorching heat, the unbearable pain… It was a bad memory, though definitely not as bad as what had come after that. He had then dreamt of the day he had been certain he had lost Aziraphale forever. There was no reason to keep on living after that. The pain was like that of the fall, only tenfold. It was a burning sensation in his chest that, unlike the pain of the fall, he knew would never go away. Of course, everything had turned out okay after that, thank… Someone. But the memory still hurt. What would he have done without his angel?

“Are you sure you are okay, my dear?”

Crowley wanted to tell him everything, wanted the angel to hold him tight and tell him everything would be okay, that the pain would go away. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t burden the angel with, well, all of himself. His mind and thoughts were meant to haunt him, but only him. No, he couldn’t tell the angel anything.

“Perfectly fine.”

A moment passed, and the pain just didn’t seem to fade.

“I think I might take a shower, angel,” he said before standing up and heading towards the bathroom. He was a demon, he didn’t need showers, but he didn’t need sleep either and still he slept like his existence depended on it. Aziraphale was aware of his affinity for scorching hot showers—Crowley had once told him they helped ease the mind—so Crowley was almost certain he wouldn’t think this sudden decision was anything odd.

He closed and locked the door, then turned on the shower. The sound of water rushing filled the background as Crowley stared at himself in the mirror. So pathetic, how could he not keep himself together? Why couldn’t he be happy? Thoughts began to rush by and mixed with the anger and rage he was beginning to build up against himself. 

Then a sudden pain on his cheek, a burning sensation. He had just slapped himself across the face. It took his brain a moment to process the action. Had it been an attempt to stop his racing mind? Was it a way of letting out all that pent up anger and frustration? He couldn’t exactly understand it, and that made him even more angry and frustrated. 

Tears began to fall from his eyes, and he plopped down on the floor and pressed his hands up against his face. Muffled sobs were hidden by the sound of rushing water. He had to pull himself together. Why couldn’t he just be happy? Maybe it was part of him, maybe demons could never be happy and this was his eternal punishment. It was torture. But he had to live with it, didn’t he?

He had to pull himself together. A shiver ran through his body and he couldn’t tell the exact reason for it. He got in the shower and just soaked for a bit. 

He just had to think. Think of anything other than all that stuff that made him want to shrivel up and die. 

A name popped up. 

Eve.

Ready to try anything, a brave rebel… Eve was the perfect name. How had he not thought of it before?

Now that he came to think of it, he missed Eve; but now wasn’t the time to go down that spyral.

Eve. 

Yep, that was definitely the name.


End file.
